


Bramble Berries

by LostCryptid



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Beast!Gerry, F/M, Getting Together, M/M, Martin Blackwood's Mother's A+ Parenting, Mary Keay's A+ Parenting, Minor Character Death, Moth!Jon, Non-Graphic Violence, Trans Martin Blackwood, minor attempted child murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28382580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostCryptid/pseuds/LostCryptid
Summary: “No one wanted to come.”“Except you?” Jon prompted, and Martin huffed mirthlessly, before shrugging.“Not really.” he admitted.“And still you’re here.” Gerry said, tilting his head.“Still, I’m here.” Martin agreed.“Why?”(In which Martin sets out to talk with the beast, instead strikes a bargain with a moth and falls in love with both.)
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sasha James/Tim Stoker (background)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 114





	Bramble Berries

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a winter exchange gift for one of the JGM Server peeps 
> 
> so Happy Belated Holidays everyone!

Trouble befell the kingdom in the Northern Mountains in the year the Winter stayed too long. The cold had its fangs in the land like a hungry wolf in its prey. Icy snowstorms ravaged the country like an angry ghost, and both animals and humans were lost to the freezing temperatures. Some found frozen solid a few days later while some were never seen again.

But unknown to most the trouble had started way before it. And of those who didn’t die thanks to the temperatures, enough succumbed to the hunger that followed when the food reserves ran dry.

It had started when the heir to the crown, prince Eric had found his wife. His future queen who was neither of royal blood nor a noble. Instead, Mary had been a peasant the prince had fallen in love with, enamoured by her beauty and the way she wielded her smile like a knife. He had brought her to the palace, had her dressed in finery and precious stones before taking her as his wife. His father hadn’t been amused, but there had been nothing to change the prince’s mind.

And Mary might have been a peasant, so much was true but she also was so much more than most assumed. The remnants of dark magic clung to her like a foul smell, evident for anyone who was trained in magic.

If Eric had noticed it, then it still hadn’t stopped him.

And while the king was far from amused, the folk simply was happy for their Prince. Eric had a good heart, and the people loved him, so they simply were glad to see him so happy. A happiness that only seemed to grow when Mary grew heavy with their first child.

And then the old king died just when the first snow started to fall, coating the land with layers and layers of white. Eric and Mary got crowned, and the snow still didn’t stop. The layers only grew thicker and thicker, burrowing the Kingdom underneath them. 

Months passed, and the snowstorms only grew worse with no sign of improvement.

Some might have turned to prayers, and many of the townfolk did. But what if you didn’t believe in the gods? And what if you knew how much power was just a little sacrifice away?

So no, Mary didn’t pray to the gods. Instead, she decided to take things into her own two hands. She didn’t wait or ask for the things she wanted, instead, she demanded. And if her husband was dead in the end, then he was simply one more victim of the harsh winter.

And Mary might have been arrogant and all too eager to cut out her husband’s heart, but with the blood, still fresh on her hands, the storms already started to calm.

And when she gave birth two nights later, and the first cry of her child echoed through the castle, the last layers of the clouds ripped open, revealing blue sky for the first time in months and the first green sprouts became visible from under the thawing snow.

But dabbling in dark magic always had its price, and the life of her husband wasn’t the only price Mary had to pay. Flocks of crows circled the castle, and the full moon shone red in the sky like a bad omen as Mary looked at the squealing baby that did not look like a human baby with its horns, red eyes and black fur. Instead, it looked like someone had tried to create a human while thinking of a wolf or some other sort of animal.

And while Mary couldn’t care less about having birthed a monster, she hadn’t cared much for getting a child anyway. There was a difference between birthing a monster and raising one, so Mary called together the ministers and engineers to spin them a story. Of how monsters had killed her husband and how they had turned her child into one of their own kind and while she still loved that child dearly it was a monster and as such was a danger to everybody.    
Then she ordered them to build a labyrinth, and they did because who were they to doubt their queen, a mother who was clearly ridden with grief for both her husband and her monstrous child.   
  
It took three years until the labyrinth was finished, underground and spanning under the whole city. The workers who hadn’t been lost in its endless winding corridors during its construction ended up getting sealed into it together with their monstrous prince.   
  
In the same year, the labyrinth was finished, and the prince was sealed away, another baby was born, albeit in a much poorer and unremarkable family. The Blackwoods barely had enough land to feed themselves, so Martin, although that hadn’t been his name back then, was only another mouth to feed.   
  
Martin’s mother used to tell him that the gods must’ve laughed when they had given her a child like him and that she rather would’ve had a monster as a child than one as useless as him. Martin was simply too clumsy, always too tall and broad, taking up to much space and so he made himself smaller, keeping quiet so he wouldn’t attract attention to a point where he nearly forgot the sound of his own voice.    
  
His hair grew unruly from neglect, so he just sheared his red curls short, for both practicality and after a while because it felt more comfortable anyway. Martin was a living ghost in his own home that barely deserved to be called such, hiding in the shadows until people nearly forgot that there had been a child living in the small house in the first place.   
  
His only bright spots were the evenings when his grandmothers would come to his sleeping place by the hearth to tell him stories of witches and cursed princes, dragons and wishing wells until he was lulled to sleep by her voice.

Years passed, and Martin grew up, more servant than son while Mary reigned the kingdom waging war on other realms and the beast prowling the labyrinth under the earth, his roars joining in with the sounds of the heavy winter storms. Taxes rose, and more and more fathers, sons and brothers got drafted into a losing war until the folk was nearly ready to break out into a revolution of its own if nothing would happen.

Until the day the beast broke free, his growls bouncing off the mountains until it sounded like thunder booming. Making it seem like the mountains themselves trembled, and avalanches started to rip everything with them on their way down.   
  


And the people stopped their rallying. Who cared about a hopeless war that was so far away, taxes or another biting cold winter if you had to worry about fangs and claws ripping into your body and red eyes watching your every step to wait for the right moment to pounce. Doors got locked, and loved ones got kept close. If you left your house, then you’d better make sure never to be alone and to always carry a blade with you.   
  


But an attack never came, and the memories of humans only span so far, and so they began to forget. Soon the war, the taxes and their gnawing hunger became their more prominent problems once more after all the beast didn’t seem too keen on slaughtering them all.   
  
Until the faithful day came when the people who went to look for their cattle only found a massacre, blood turning the soil red and a heavy smell of iron hanging in the air like an unspoken curse. The tales spread quickly of cows ripped in half, head ripped from sheep and entrails hanging over fences like morbid garlands.   
No human could’ve done such feat so the only possible answer was that the beast must’ve returned.   
  
And while Mary, unlike Eric, never had been beloved, the folk knew that she was fierce and while she kept her distance from the war they had seen her hunt. Or no that wasn’t quite right, they had seen her leave alone and later return with her kills; Giant Wolves, Moose, the occasional bear. So they knew that their queen could hold herself in a battle, and when Mary declared that she would take care of the beast, the folk believed in her. It cheered at her declaration and it cheered when the assembled hunting party rode through the city heading for the tundra and further for the dark woods where the ministers and scholars assumed the monster prince would hide.   
The people cheered, and the crimson uniforms glinted in the sun when the soldiers moved past the houses, and a small part of Martin couldn’t help but admire them.   
  
The following morning the hunting party was back, in a sense. The market place was filled with smooth white bones, stacked like the huge bonfires they lighted before the long winter months, and next to it the crimson uniforms laid like empty beetle shells, glinting like freshly spilt blood on cobblestones.

The cheering that had been present before had turned into weeping. If the soldiers couldn’t defeat the monster, then who could?   
So if killing didn’t work and wasn’t an option, maybe they could bargain with the Beast, so the city decided to send one of their smartest to make a deal with the prince. The choice fell on a royal engineer by the name of Jurgen and Jurgen packed his bags and vanished never to be seen again.   
  
With their chosen one gone and the soldiers dead the people started to despair so Mary set out a reward for anyone who’d be willing to go and strike a deal with the beast on behalf of the crown.    
And there was a lot of talk about the riches that had been offered but still, no one was willing to risk their lives.   
  
“Maybe we should just leave.” Martin’s mother said one morning so offhandedly that Martin wasn’t even sure who ‘we’ was supposed to be and if he was included in that.   
  
“And where would we go?” his grandmother asked dryly. Martin’s mother only shrugged.   
  
The coast? The Planes? Does it really matter anyway? As long as it's not this godforsaken place, it shouldn’t be important, right? It’s not like anything is keeping me here either way.” her voice was bitter as it usually was whenever Martin’s father was brought up even if only in the vaguest sense.   
  
Martin’s grandmother only snorted unamused.

“There are easier ways to die,” she said before sending Martin a glance. “Send Martin.”   
  
The silence that followed was deafening, and Martin tried to shrink away, making himself as small as possible.

“Martin?” with the way his mother looked at him Martin almost assumed that she would personally bring him to the queen right then and there to make him go, but instead she shook her head. “He’s still my son, besides I can’t send Martin, he’s way too clumsy. He will just get lost before he’ll even reach the woods.”   
  
“I’m sure he’ll be fine.” his grandmother insisted with a shrug. “He has a better head on his shoulder than you think.”    
  
“He doesn’t even look like a messenger, much less like one who gets sent by the crown.”   
  
Martin’s grandmother shrugged again. “What does it matter? The Queen asked for bravery and nothing else. Besides, why should a beast care about such things, or do you think it helped the soldiers that they looked like the Queen has sent them?”   
  
Martin’s mother was quiet, and the next thing that broke the silence was Martin’s own voice, quiet but still almost deafening in the small room.   
  
“What if the beast eats me?”   
  
His grandmother’s face softened. “It won’t” she said with a conviction that almost made Martin believe it himself. Almost.   
His grandmother’s rough palm stroked across his cheek.    
  
“Adventures only happen to special kinds of people, never to someone like us.”   
  
Martin wasn’t quite sure how a terrible death through a monster jaw counted as an adventure, but he looked into her eyes and slowly nodded. He did want to believe her.   
  
And so they sent word to the queen, and although Mary looked less than impressed when Martin stood in front of her, no one else had volunteered, and so there had been no other choice than to make Martin the Crown’s messenger.   
  
He got dressed in a set of new clothes, and his grandmother wrapped a wool coat around his shoulders. The wool was dyed a vibrant red, and the cloak was probably the most luxurious clothing article Martin had ever owned. She also handed him his small handaxe and a bundle filled with a few provisions before squeezing his shoulder encouragingly.   
  
  


His mother hadn’t come to see him off, but he hadn’t expected her to so he wasn’t surprised although it still stung.   
A few of the townsfolk had come, but they looked more sceptical than anything so Martin would’ve been just as fine without them scrutinising him in all honesty.   
  
He hugged his grandmother for the last time before he started his march out into the tundra and Martin certainly wasn’t eager to face the beast, so calling him enthusiastic was far from the truth, but he still tried to see the positive aspects. Getting out for a while and away from his mother couldn’t be that bad and he wouldn’t need to do any chores. Besides, they certainly could use that reward money should he be successful.   
  
But even that small piece of optimism soon got lost in the endless wilderness when thick flakes of snow started to fall, and the cold began to seep through Martin’s clothes and into his bones. The winds picked up as well, biting at his limbs like angry dogs while Martin tugged his cloak tighter around himself. The red of its wool the only speck of colour in the land that rapidly got covered by white.   
  
It didn’t take long until Martin’s fingers and toes felt like they had turned into icicles in his mittens and fur-lined boots. He tugged his scarf over his nose, but his nose still ended up cold and red, and it mainly made his glasses fog up. Not that there was much to see either way the white seemed endless and only got interrupted by the occasional dark rook or bare shrub.

The growing snow layers only made his progress harder and harder, and Martin started to miss his spot in front of the warm hearth, but he kept pushing on, trudging through snow and ice until he could make out the first dark green trees in the distance. Trees that by all means shouldn’t even be there, so far behind the treeline, but princes also shouldn’t be monsters, and Martin still had been sent to deal with precisely that.   
  
The conifers reached up dark and threatening when Martin reached them, and his heart raced in his chest when he stopped in front of it. The canopy was so thick that no snow had reached the ground and no light managed to pierce through it shrouding the forest in deep shadows. Martin had heard about the dark forest before, of course, he had, but it was one thing to hear about it and another thing to stand in front of it.   
  
He swallowed dryly before squeezing through the nearest gap in the thorn thicket that seemed to grow everywhere where a thick tree trunk didn’t already occupy the space. Thorns caught in his clothes and scrapped over his skin, leaving bloody lines wherever they could as the darkness welcomed him like an old friend.   
  
Martin’s eyes had trouble adjusting to the shadows after looking at the gleaming white of the snowy plains so long, and so he blindly stumbled until he ended up at the other side of the thicket.   
  
And he couldn’t believe his eyes when he did. Where the canopy had been thick and impenetrable before it was now open revealing a clear night sky with northern lights dancing across of it and for a moment, Martin could only stare. This shouldn’t be possible when Martin had entered the forest the sun hadn’t even begun to set, and still, here he was mesmerised by something that shouldn’t be.   
  
“You’re not a soldier.”    
  
The voice startled Martin, and he whirled around to face the man that had spoken. He was smaller than Martin, quite a bit actually with dark skin and dark eyes that glimmered in the starlight as they fixated on Martin.   
  
“Uh, no I’m not, and you’re not the prince?” Martin replied, confused. More a question than a statement. But from everything he had heard, he just couldn't fit the man and the stories of a hulking, black-furred beast with eyes of liquid fire together. However, a second glance at the man made quite clear that he wasn’t exactly human either, with long grey wings sprouting from his back like an ornamental cloak and antenna peeking out from in between dark locks.   
  
“I’m not.” the man agreed. “I am the guardian of this forest, but you can call me Jon, and you are?” the man, Jon, raised an eyebrow.   
  
“Uh, oh sorry, My name is Martin, Martin Blackwood. I’m here to talk to the uh Prince” Martin stammered, strangely intimidated by the man, who at least physically didn’t seem like much of a threat to him.

Jon gave him a scrutinising look before he turned to wave Martin along.

“Follow me.” he said weaving through the trees without looking back to check if Martin was following him, but it wasn’t like Martin had much of a choice and so followed along, deeper and deeper into the woods.   
  
The further they got, the less the forest reminded him of the unfriendly picture in the beginning. The freezing winds had calmed and even though it could hardly be considered warm the cold wasn’t as biting anymore, even prompting Martin to pull the scarf down from his face. The shadows didn’t vanish completely, but soft silvery lights started to float through the air, illuminating the space around them and the thorn ticket turned into bramble bushes full of dark pulp berries.

Martin couldn't resist the urge to pluck a few of them of their branches and was just about to eat them as slender fingers wrapped around his wrist, making him hold in.   
  
“Do you want to turn into a monster?” Jon asked quietly. “If not, then I’d advise against eating or drinking anything while you’re here.   
  
“Oh.” Martin only replied, dropping the berries into Jon’s hand when the other held it out.   
  
“Feel free to take what you want if you don’t mind that, though.” Jon added with an almost amused tone.   
  
“I think I’m good.” Martin replied, turning into a monster wasn’t exactly something he had planned.

“Alright then, come on we’re close.” Jon said, the fingers around Martin’s wrist not letting go as he got gently tugged along. 

Jon led him to a clearing with a small spring that fed into a bigger pond. It was crystal clear like a polished silver mirror and perfectly reflected the starry night sky, making it look like Martin could just pluck the moon out of it if he just tried.

Mesmerised as he was, Martin didn’t even notice the much more pressing matter at hand and only reacted when he saw something shifting at the edge of the clearing. He froze, and his heart stopped for a moment before it started up again with twice the speed. The beast was tall, even taller than Martin and Martin was by no means a small man. His dark fur blended in with the shadows that lingered between the tall trees, making him nearly invisible except for the red eyes that burned menacingly.

“Gerry, here’s someone who would like to talk to you.” Jon said, gesturing to Martin. 

The beast tilted his head and took a step forward, making Martin instinctively stumble one back and wrap his hand around the handle of his axe.   
  
“Are you sure he wants to talk?” the Beast apparently named Gerry asked, his voice rumbling like far of thunder. “he seems more like he wants to run….or try to hit me with that axe.” He sounded amused, and Martin almost wanted to throw his axe just to prove a point.   
  
“He’s not a threat.” Jon said, and Martin only huffed. He felt like being a threat simply because no one here seemed to take him seriously, and he didn’t like that at all.   
  
“I think you might make him want to be one.” Gerry said with a grin that revealed the long and sharp teeth in his maw and Martin had to swallow dryly. A small part in him still wanted to prove that he was to be taken seriously, but the bigger part of him wasn’t too keen on ending up between fangs and so he pushed the smaller part of himself back into the corner of his mind as he had done all the years before.   
  
“I was sent to…” Martin started instead, but before he could finish, he got interrupted by Jon.   
  
“Don’t lie.” Jon snapped, his voice sharp where it had been calm and amused before, making Martin flinch.   
  
“You should listen to him,” Gerry said with a shrug. “Golden rule of the forest. Speak the truth.”

Martin nodded slowly. “Ah…” he could explain the entire story, including his family but the essence of it was simple. “No one wanted to come.”   
  
“Except you?” Jon prompted, and Martin huffed mirthlessly, before shrugging.   
  
“Not really.” he admitted.   
  
“And still you’re here.” Gerry said, tilting his head.   
  


“Still, I’m here.” Martin agreed. Somewhen between Jon snapping at him and now they had all ended up sitting down in the clearing even if Martin couldn’t quite remember making the conscious decision to do so.   
  


“Why?” Jon asked, his eyes fixating Martin with what might have been an unsettling green glow but instead, Martin felt relaxed for the first time in a while.   
  
“Someone had to,” he said calmly and looked at Gerry. “We need you to stop slaughtering our herds.”

Gerry returned his gaze, placing his head in a hand that was more paw than hand. “What for?” he asked.   
  
“We’ll starve.”   
  
The burning eyes seemed to carve into Martin’s skull. “And that’s my problem?” he asked. “Did anyone care for me while I was in the labyrinth? Or if I was starving?”   
  
Martin looked down into his lap. “You’re right.” He agreed then. He had just been a baby back when the labyrinth had been finished, but it didn’t change the fact that no one else had done anything either. “And I’m sorry about that.” When Martin looked back up again, he could swear that Gerry’s eyes had widened in surprise. “And I know that an apology won’t fix anything, but I would still ask you to leave the herds alone.”   
  
There was silence before Gerry nodded slowly. “I won’t attack your herds.” he agreed.   
  
“Ah, before you agree,” Jon said, and both Martin and Gerry turned to look at him. Gerry with curiosity Martin with mixed feelings. Jon’s green eyes flickered softly as he returned Martin’s look.   
“How about a bargain?” he suggested.   
  
“A bargain?” Martin asked, a mix of confusion and curiosity bubbling inside of him, and Jon nodded.   
  
“Tell me a story,” he said. “A true story and I’ll make sure that no harm will befall your cattle anymore, not from beasts nor any other supernatural force.”   
  
Martin furrowed his brows. He wasn’t sure what other supernatural forces should befall their kingdom. Still, there was something about Jon that made this seem like a good idea, even though imagining Jon trying to hold back Gerry’s much larger form seemed very unlikely. But Martin also remembered the tales about old magic, and he assumed that people with wings might fall into that category. So he nodded in agreement, further safeguards probably wouldn’t hurt.   
  
“What will happen if it’s not a true tale?” he asked.   
  


“You’ll see.” Jon said with a smile that sent shivers down Martin’s back and nearly made him reconsider the bargain, but he was also stubborn and refused to back down, so he just swallowed his fear down.   
  
“Let me think…” Martin said.   
  
He knew a lot of tales, many from his grandmother and even more from listening to people talk. Sometimes it seemed like people forgot that just because he was quiet most of his life, it didn’t mean that he couldn’t hear.   
On the other hand, it also didn’t mean that he could tell which of them were true and which weren’t, so he simply had to guess.   
  
“Alright.” he said after a moment before he started.   
  


“Down in the plains where the snow doesn’t linger as much there was a young man. His name was Tim, and he and his brother Danny lived in a village, close to the marble woods.

A small village where nothing ever happened until the circus and its flesh-eating puppet appeared. No one knew where they had come from or if they had a purpose besides bringing terror, but soon the creaking of wooden joints became a sound that everyone feared.   
  
And no matter what measures people took the circus still caught its victims—one of them Danny Stoker.    
  
Since the brothers were so close, Tim swore to himself that Danny would be their last victim and if it was the last thing he would do.”    
  
“Let me guess he hunted them down and killed them all?”, Jon interrupted Martin, almost bored.

Martin shrugged. “Well yes but that’s not important what’s important is what happened after.”   
  
“What happened after?” 

“Yes,” Martin said, giving Jon a stern look that made Gerry snicker. “If you’ll let me finish, you’ll see.”   
  
“Ah… my apologies, please continue.” Jon said, seemingly flustered, making Martin’s lips twitch in amusement.   
  
“Alright then, so as you already figured out Tim did, in fact, manage to track them down to their current hideout, and he managed to kill them all as well by blocking the exits and setting it on fire.   
It was the day where Tim learned what screaming wood sounded like.   
  
But as the circus and its puppets burned, and Tim watched the flames consume each and every bit some of the fire ended up inside of him filling out the hole that Danny had left behind, feeding on the rage and the pain and the sorrow that Tim had stored there until it was festering like an infected wound.   
  
And the fire inside of him grew, turning into a hunger that forced him to consume and destroy, but still, nothing could quench it.   
Entire forests ended up getting swallowed by him, and no matter which doctor or scholar, he sought out none knew what would be able to help him.   
  
And so, in the end, Tim turned to the smartest person he knew. The librarian of his village. Her name was Sasha, and she owned a vast amount of books, enough that her collection dwarfed that of many of the scholars he had seen on his journey.   
  
When Tim showed up on her door, she only needed one look to see what was wrong and that the fire would consume everything if nothing was done. So she packed her things and told him: >> We need to go to the lake of memories, its water is the only thing that can douse the fire. Otherwise, it will consume you and everything you love.<<”   
  
“And then they go to the lake, fix him with magic water, and then they marry and live happily ever after.” Gerry said, and Martin huffed and rolled his eyes.   
  
“What’s it with you guys and interrupting me?” he asked, this time giving Gerry a look. The other surprisingly seemed to have shrunk while he had talked, more human than wolf by now. Jon nudged him lightly, his wings wrapped around himself like a fuzzy blanket.   
  
“Let him speak.” he chided, making Gerry snort.   
  
“So you get to interrupt him, but I don’t?” he asked, and Jon blinked slowly before he replied.   
  
“Yes.”    
  
“So should I continue?” Martin asked, raising an eyebrow.   
  
“Yes, please,” Jon said. “Feel free to whack him with your axe the next time should he interrupt again.”   
  
“Whack him with my what now?”   
  
“Your axe,” Gerry said with a shrug. “Wouldn’t matter anyway, blades can’t pierce my skin.”   
  
“Oh?” Martin could remember some tales about the mighty beasts impenetrable skin. He supposed they were true after all. “Ahm well anyway,” he said, clearing his throat, before picking up the story once more.   
  
“So Sasha packed her bags, and together they made their way up to the Starfall Cliffs where the lake of memories was located, and yes Tim drank from its water, and it did extinguish the fire inside of him. In a way.   
  
What Sasha hadn’t told him was that the lake of memories had its name for a reason and that drinking its water would make Tim face his memories of Danny. The good ones and the painful ones as well. And Tim, who in his rage, had never been able to grief, cried for the first time since Danny’s death and with his tears, the fire flowed out of him.   
  
And yes maybe he did marry Sasha in the end, and perhaps they lived almost happily ever after because you know while the fire was gone, its embers still remained, and no water or love or magical tincture could fix that, but that’s okay because sometimes people simply have that inside of them what’s important is that you don’t let it overwhelm you and that while others can help it’s up to you to take the steps to heal and sometimes healing hurts but that’s okay too because sometimes the pain shows that you’re getting better.”   
  
Martin shrugged, the story barely resembled the original. Instead, it felt like he had placed a part of himself into it.   
  
“Thank you,” Jon said softly, eyes glowing brighter than they had before. “ I consider your part of the bargain paid.”    
  
Martin blinked. “Oh, that’s uh… that’s good,” he said, looking from Jon to Gerry who by now nearly looked human with pale skin and long black hair. He flashed Martin a wry grin when Martin’s gaze fell on him, and Martin quickly looked back to Jon.   
“I shall take my leave then?” he said and slowly pushed himself up.

“Wait," Jon said and moved to break off a blooming branch of the nearest bramble bush. holding it out to Martin. “Take this, and don’t let go of it before you reach your home.”    
  
Martin took the branch gingerly, careful not to prick himself on its thorns. He didn’t dare to question this weird gift, and so he simply said his thanks before making his way back to the edge of the forest, following the glowing lights until he stumbled back out through the thorn thicket, where the afternoon sun greeted him.   
  
Martin’s journey back through the tundra was shockingly easy, the snow didn’t hinder his steps, and neither wind nor cold dared to bite as his hackles. Nonetheless, relief washed over him where he finally reached the first houses of his town.   
While the way home had taken him only a fraction of the time, his way to the forest had taken, the sun was still already hanging low.   
  
The few people that were still out and about didn’t hide their staring when Martin walked through the streets, and it was quite clear that they hadn’t expected him to return. He could already hear their whispering before he even reached the marketplace, and enough was enough.   
  
“You can just talk to me instead of about me when I’m standing right here.” Martin snapped, startling the people around him.   
  
“How do we know you even went to the beast in the first place, huh?” Someone dared to ask. “How do we know that you didn’t just dawdle your day away and now come back to earn a reward for nothing?”   
  
Martin’s brows furrowed but instead of snapping an answer like he wanted to he just pulled out the bramble branch from where he had tugged it in his red cloak. As soon as he did the smell of ripe bramble berries permeated the air and the branch seemed to warm everyone from the inside who caught a glance of it, while blossoms unmarred by frost, making it quite clear that it wasn’t regular flowers.

The harsh whispers quickly got replaced with hushed murmurs.   
  
“Our herd will be unharmed in the future, now will you let me go to the queen?” Martin asked, his voice filled with a bone-deep exhaustion, and the peopled stepped aside, trailing after him all the way to the palace doors as if they hadn’t accused him of lying.   
  
Mary’s eyes were cold as ice when Martin stepped in front of her, making him shiver when he handed her the branch, but she couldn’t deny the magic that basically seeped from it.   
  
“What an impressive task.” a quiet voice murmured and Martin looked to the side, his eyes landing on Gertrude, the royal advisor, one of the last who remained from Eric’s original staff. She gave him an inquisitive look before she smiled. “I shall make sure that you will receive the reward that was promised.”   
  
And so the queen sent Martin back with three chests of gold and the finest silks and enough servants to carry them all.   
  
And Jon’s bargain held true, no supernatural befell their cattle, beast or otherwise and so the people fell back into their familiar patterns. If the scratches on his skin didn’t prove otherwise, Martin would’ve been inclined to think that it was just an elaborate dream.   
  
His family was wealthy now, with enough servants that he wouldn’t need to move a finger for the rest of his life, but still, he ended up scrubbing pans while thinking about bramble berries, red eyes and moth wings,

Weeks passed like that and people assumed that the beast must’ve lost interest in them, so they went back to their usual complaints until they woke up one morning, their fields destroyed, trees uprooted, and grain storages ripped apart and strange tracks that lead out into the tundra.

Forgotten where the taxes again and instead they cried for the queen to fix it once more.   
  
And so Mary set out another reward this time a piece of land from her own royal estates. The word spread quickly, but once more, no one volunteered.   
  
“Are you going?” Martin’s grandmother only asked, and Martin nodded in return, making her smile with a knowing look.   
  
Martin felt almost eager this time when he wrapped his red cloak around himself.   
And when the dawn came, he left once more this time accompanied by cheers he couldn’t care less about.   
  
Travelling through the tundra still was as exhausting as it had been the first time with icy winds ripping and him, so he was quite relieved when he reached the dark woods.   
The thorn thicket almost seemed to part itself for him this time when he got close, barely leaving any scratches as he stepped through.   
And like the last time, the winds stopped as soon as he entered the forest and soft twilight washed over him.   
  
“You’re back.” A voice greeted him, and this time Gerry stepped out from between the trees instead of Jon, back to being more wolf than human again. “Do they really want to get rid of you that badly?”   
  


Martin laughed dryly. “If you’d ask my mother probably, but no I offered to go this time.”   
  
“Oh?” Gerry looked surprised. “Why are you coming this time?” he asked then.   
  
“They sent me to tell you to stop destroying our fields.”    
  
Gerry snorted, staling around Martin. “But?” he asked. “That’s not all, is it?”   
  
“No.” Martin agreed. “I came here to talk with Jon.”   
  
“About what?”   
  
“Another bargain. I don’t think you destroyed the fields.”   
  
“You don’t?” The surprise was back in Gerry’s voice, and when he had rounded Martin and stepped back in front of him, he was almost looking human again. Red eyes still glimmered, and the horns on his head were still there, but the look of gentle inquiry on his face seemed very human.   
  
“I don’t,” Martin said with a sigh. “I have…. suspicions though, but for now I’d just like to strike another bargain.   
  
Gerry laughed, revealing his sharp teeth. “Come on then. I’m sure Jon is eager to hear another story.” And Gerry, by now shorter than Martin, stepped closer and took his hand before pulling him deeper into the forest into the direction of the clearing as Martin assumed.   
  
Correctly as it turned out, Jon was already there when they reached the clearing, kneeling in front of the pond but he turned around when they stepped out from between the trees.   
  
“Martin, you’re back.” he said as if he had been waiting for him. And maybe he had.

  
“Ah...Yes, I had hoped you’d be able to help once more.” Martin said.   
  
“You know the price for my help.” Jon replied, raising up to walk over to them, and Martin nodded.   
  
“How can I help then?” he asked.   
  


“I need you to keep our fields and storages safe just like you protect our cattle.” Martin sighed and watched Jon tilt his head, his antenna bobbing slightly.   
  
“I can do that. Come on.” He led both Gerry and Martin to a moss patch, gesturing for them to sit down, and only then Martin realised that Gerry still held his hand, making his cheeks flush.   
  
“So let’s hear your story.” Jon said when they all had settled, looking at him expectantly.   
  
Martin fidgeted with his cloak before relaxing. Gerry slumped against his side, much to his surprise.   
  
“Yes, where to start.” he began uncertainly before he found his composure.   
  
“In a land far away from here where no snow ever falls, a woman came upon a village, looking as if plagued by deep sorrow.   
She settled there and not long after married one of the village’s men. Together they adopted two children—a boy named Michael and a girl named Helen.   
  
As they grew up, they turned out to be difficult children, often sick and thus cranky, but the woman, her name was Emma, bore it without complaint.   
  
As if that wasn’t enough evil spirits found their way into their home, breaking the pots filled with creams and tinctures that Emma used to treat her children, making her husband fall down the stairs so that he sprained his ankle and had to stay home.   
But the spirits seemed especially keen on bothering the children, spilling their food and disrupting their sleep by howling like an angry room, so no rest was to be found.   
  
It kept going until the parents had enough and decided to leave to visit their local wise man for guidance on how to proceed.   
  
And while the parents where gone Michael and Helen huddled together under their blanket, scared and afraid, but the howling soon calmed down turning into whispers instead. Soft ghost fingers carding through their hair as stories got told.   
As it turned out, the ghosts weren’t malicious; instead, they were the ghosts of children that Emma had adopted before them.   
They hadn’t meant to cause harm. Instead, they had tried to keep them safe.”   
  
“Funny way to show that.” Gerry muttered, earning a light slap against his calf from Jon.   
  
“Let him finish.” Jon scolded softly, making both Martin and Gerry snort. Martin nudged Gerry slightly before he continued.   
  
“You see, Emma wasn’t the loving mother she pretended to be. Instead, she was the one who was responsible for her children falling sick in the first place. The ghost simply had destroyed the pots where she kept her poisons and had smashed everything that had been touched by it. They had kept them awake, so Emma wouldn’t have any opportunities to cause harm and had injured their father to make it harder for her to get away with it.   
  
When their parents returned, Helen and Michael secretly told their father what they had learned. Unwilling to believe it but just to be sure their father started to investigate Emma’s past, but by the time every accusation turned out to be accurate, Emma was long since gone.   
  
So you know not everything unknown is bad or as scary as it might seem at first.” Martin said, looking at Gerry. “and those who should love and protect us don’t always do.”    
  
“And mother’s suck.” Gerry said dryly.   
  
“Yeah, some do.” Martin agreed with a chuckle.   
  
“What happened to Emma?” Jon asked, he had scooted closer and closer during the tale and sat now directly in front of Martin. Martin shrugged.   
  
“Who knows, there isn’t always a bad ending for every villain out there, but I think she got eaten by animals or something.” he said, making Gerry laugh and Jon nodded satisfied.   
  
“That works,” he said. “I will take care of your fields.”   
  
“Thank you.” Martin said with a sigh as Jon plucked another branch from a bramble bush.   
  
“You should return, they probably already miss you.” he said, holding the branch out for Martin.   
  
Martin took the branch, thoughtfully twirling it between his fingers before he let his shoulders slump. “Probably.” he agreed halfheartedly before he nudged Gerry to stop him from leaning on him so he could get up.

Gerry moved after the second attempt but only to lean close. “Stay safe.” he whispered before brushing his lips over Martin’s cheek, so light that it could’ve been wishful thinking if that part of his face didn’t feel as if it was glowing with warmth.   
  
“I’ll try?” Martin brought out, his fingers places against the patch of skin as he stood up.   
  
“Good,” Gerry said. “You have to face my mother, after all.”   
  
A shiver rand down Martin’s spine when he thought back to those icy eyes.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “She can’t exactly eat me in her throne room.” Gerry only shrugged.   
  
“Let’s hope so.”   
  
Slightly unsettled by this statement Martin left, only glancing back over his shoulder at two silhouettes huddled close together watching him go. One with red the other with green glowing eyes. And for a moment he wondered what would happen if he would just stay here, only for a bit longer. No one would miss him anyway, and he had felt more at home in these woods than he had in his mother’s houses for the past decades. He quickly shook those thoughts off, grabbing his branch tightly as he went back out into the snowy plains.

When he returned this time, people were already waiting for him, murmuring excitedly when they saw another branch clasped in his hand.   
They followed him once more to the palace door and only stopped there while he was brought to the queen. 

Mary’s eyes still as icy as he remembered them.   
  
“The land shall be yours,” she said. “But say, does my son trust you?” she asked, and Martin thought back to Gerry’s form pressed against his side before he shook his head.   
  
“Not killing me on sight doesn’t mean that he is trusting me.” he said, his hands clammy as he lied right to the queen’s face. Mary’s eyes narrowed, but then she smiled, and Martin felt as if he looked at the bared teeth of a hungry wolf ready to pounce. She waved over a servant, who brought her a small wooden box. Mary carefully opened it and took out a slim dagger that she held out for Martin.   
  
“Return to the woods and kill the beast that is my son and I will make you and your family into nobility.” she said icy eyes burning into Martin’s skull, and his fingers moved as if on their own, wrapping around the dagger.   
  
“But no blade can pierce his skin.” he protested weakly, thinking back to Gerry’s words.   
  
“Don’t worry about that.” Mary said, waving it off. “No normal blade can pierce him, but this one is wrought from the branch you brought and filled with its magic. Now go, leave early tomorrow and bring me my son’s heart so the lands can live in peace once more.”   
  
Martin swallowed dryly. He wanted to decline, to give back the dagger and tell the queen that she could go herself, but his lips didn’t open, and his legs moved on their own volition, turning around and walking out. The only thing he could do was sent a panicked look into Gertrude’s direction, but if she noticed she didn’t react.   
  
Martin’s feet carried him out of the palace and halfway to his home before a burning sensation on his cheek stopped him. Suddenly his movements were his own again, making him sag with relief as he touched the still warm spot on his face.   
  
“Well she didn’t eat me alive, did she.” he murmured to himself before he continued his way home.   
  
Reaching the small hut, he already saw people busying themselves, carrying all their belongings off to their new home, but Martin didn’t follow. Instead, he opted to spend the night alone in the empty house, barely sleeping until his grandmother woke him in the hour before dawn.   
  
“You need to go.” she said, gently pushing a strand of hair out of his face.   
  
“I don’t want to.” Martin admitted.   
  
“There are worse things than facing a beast.”    
  
“I don’t worry about the beast.”

“I know.” his grandmother said, her rough palm patting his cheek lightly. “But it will be fine.” she added with a knowing smile, that made Martin wonder what she truly knew and how she had even heard about his new task.   
  
In the end, he did pack his things and wrapped his red cloak around himself once more before he sneaked out of the town while most of its people were still sleeping.   
  
The journey through snow and ice felt short this time, too short in fact, and Martin’s heart was stuttering in his chest as he stood in front of the forest. On his walk, his thoughts had circled around Gerry and Jon, around the queen and the stories that had been told about her long ago, about how no one actually knew what had happened to her husband and around what it even meant to be a monster. They still spun in circles as he stood there and for a moment he just hoped that the thorn thicket would bar his ways, but like the last time, it parted easily when he got close, letting him through without a single scratch.    
  
Twilight wrapped around him once more and the dancing lights fluttered around his head nudging him like overly affectionate puppies. Neither Jon nor Gerry greeted him this time, and Martin was glad for it until he realised that the floating lights were trying to push him into a particular direction.    
  
He followed with a sigh until he ended up in front of a small wooden house, the door already open like an unspoken invitation, so Martin stepped through.   
  
The interior was cosy and warm, and both Jom and Gerry were sitting in front of a lit fireplace, looking up when he entered.   
  
“You’re back soon.” Gerry remarked as Martin hung up his cloak.   
  
“Yes.” he agreed, walking over to sit down next to them.   
  
“Did you come to tell another story?” Jon asked, and Martin sighed.   
  
“Just one,” he said. “The story of a man who got sent to slay the beast.” He pulled out the dagger and placed it in front of him.   
  
“And does he?” Gerry asked, chin placed in his hand.   
  
Martin shrugged.” I’m told it’s the right thing to do.” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “but I’m not so sure.”    
  
“How come?” Gerry pushed further.   
  


“Did you kill the hunting party?” Martin asked, and this time Jon replied.   
  


“We didn’t, but we didn’t help them either.”   
  
Martin must’ve looked at him in confusion, so Jon elaborated. 

“The forest protects its people. No one who comes here with the intent to cause harm can enter.” he looked at the dagger. “Those who still try met horrible ends. They didn’t want to leave even when I told them to, so the forest met violence with violence.”   
  
Martin could feel the truth swinging in those words, and so he relaxed.   
  
“Although,” Gerry said, sounding sheepish. “I did beat up an old man because I recognised him as one of those who helped build the labyrinth.”   
  
“Leitner?” Martin asked. “We thought he ran away.”   
  
“Oh, he ran quite quickly afterwards,” Gerry said, amused. “And I found him in the snowy plains. I don’t think he even planned to come here.”   
  
Martin couldn’t help but smile, but it vanished when he picked up the dagger.    
  
“The queen told me to bring her your heart.” he said, twirling the blade in his hand.   
  
“You can have it,” Gerry said lightly, moving so he leaned against Martin’s side once more. “If you want it.”   
  
“Mine as well.” Jon added. “all we want is yours in return.”   
  
For a moment, Martin was too surprised to respond.    
  
He cleared his throat.” That can be arranged.” he said then, and Jon smiled, nearly climbing into his lap, fuzzy wings brushing against him.   
  
“Maybe,” Martin said after a moment before looking at Gerry. “It’s time to tell your story, and I think.” he stopped. “I think I would like some bramble berries.”   
  
Martin could see Gerry beam, and he could feel Jon’s smile from where his lips were pressed against his skin.   
  
  


Gerry’s form turned monstrous again as they left the forest. They had bound his paws with a piece of rope that Martin used to lead him along while Jon walked next to him.   
  
The townsfolk scattered when they approached like that, hiding away in their houses in fear as Gerry did his best to growl and snap at anyone he could see.   
  
Mary didn’t wait for them in the throne room. Instead, she met them on the palace steps, face contorted in a furious rage.   
  
“Why did you bring him here?” she snapped. “Didn’t I tell you to bring me his heart?”   
  
“I got his heart just fine and another one on top,” Martin replied with a shrug. “But I didn’t want to leave mine behind so I brought them with me.”   
  
Mary looked at them; then, she laughed coldly.   
  
“You claim to love a monster so much that your willing to let your people suffer for it?” she asked, and whispers broke out amongst the folk that had slowly started to come out again to see what was happening.   
  
“I prefer a kind monster of a monstrous queen anytime.” Martin snapped back, standing his ground. “It wasn’t him who slaughtered our cattle and destroyed our fields. It was you!”   
  
“And how should I have done so?” Mary hissed. “No human could’ve done so, and do I look like a monster to you?”   
  
“No, but you reek of rotten magic.” Jon said quietly, stepping out from behind Martin.” And some monsters look very human in fact.”   
  
“And you are?” Mary demanded to know, seething with barely hold back anger. “Who are you to make such accusations.”   
  
“I am the Guardian of the Forest.” Jon said, spreading his wings slightly as a wave of gentle warmth washed over the surrounding people. “and I have enough of you meddling with my woods.”   
  
Mary screamed, and maybe it was the fact that she felt that all her lies and secrets got dragged to light and she no longer felt the need to pretend or perhaps she simply lashed out like a caged beast with no escape. Either way, shadows gathered around her slow and creeping like tar that formed into ghastly soldiers, the same ones that had also slaughtered the herds and burned fields and now they leapt for Martin following the command of their master.   
  
Claws and Blades strick true but neither managed to pierce Martin’s skin no matter how hard they hit.   
  
Martin quietly pulled the hood of his cloak back, revealing now snow white hair that seemed to have fog lingering at its end and slit pupils in blue eyes that glowed eerily. No longer a man but a monster.   
He turned around to the folk, and they flinched away in terror.   
  
“As you can see” he called out. “the actual monster was right here the entire time.”   
  
“He’s right you know,” Gertrude said, stepping forward as Mary whipped around. “Oh, don’t give me that look, I never forgave you for locking Agnes in that labyrinth.” she huffed.   
  
When even the royal advisor spoke out against the queen, the folk rallied up, remembered where all the hopeless wars and enormous taxes and so soon they were yelling for their queens head.   
  
I would’ve been easy to kill Mary then and there, for each and every monster that stood on the stairs that day, but instead, they decided to lock her up in her own labyrinth.   
  
“I should’ve known you planned something like this when you released me back then.” Gerry muttered as he stepped in front of Gertrude, the ropes on his wrist long since loosened.   
  
“It’s good to see you as well, Gerard.” Gertrude only chuckled making Gerry huff.   
  
“I still don’t know if I like you or not.”   
  
“You got two boyfriends out of this, don’t complain.” Gertrude only said, shutting Gerry right up.   
  
“Old women are scary.” Martin decided quietly, and Gerry only nodded.   
  
“You haven’t even met my grandmother.” Jon only added quietly making the other two laugh.   
  
With the queen gone and Gerry uninterested in the throne they left the kingdom for Gertrude to look after while they returned to their house in the forest. Where after a courtship of many moons they married beneath the starry sky.   
  
Martin still made sure to visit his grandmother occasionally but otherwise, the story of the three monsters living in the dark woods slowly turned into a myth until it was nearly forgotten and only got told to remind children that not every pretty face hid a good person and that not every scary monster was out to get you.   
  
  



End file.
